Ash sipped her tea and watched her mom do inventory online. She still hadn’t looked at her phone, with its photos of the Quiz Bowl questions. It would be safest, she decided, to wait until most of the family left for the Dome. A part of her was dying to see the questions, and a part of her wanted to put it off forever.

  There was a strange rumbling in the hallway, a sound that Ash didn’t recognize. Then Gracie appeared in a neon-yellow soccer jersey, dribbling a freshly inflated ball. “Not in the house, please,” Ash’s mom said. Their house was way too small for soccer.

  Gracie’s smile was radiant. She’d been waiting a long time for this day. “I’m on my way out,” she said. She barreled through the kitchen in a blur, her new cleats clicking on the tiles. Ash caught sight of her through the window—you really couldn’t miss that jersey—as she made her way to a patch of their yard that was not sopping wet. To her surprise, Ash saw her dad was out there, too.

  Her parents came home from The Gate when the lunch crowd had finally died down, but usually her dad spent his afternoons on the phone before the dinner rush, when he often went back to help out the night manager. Today, he was standing in a kid-size goal while Gracie tried to get past him. She was pretty sneaky, but he fended her off until he slipped on a patch of grass, and Gracie scored! He stood up, brushed himself off, and laughed. He seemed happy.

  Ash looked away from the window. The only games she ever played with her dad were chess and Scrabble.

  Unless you really knew the McNultys, you might not realize that they were from another country—a lot of people didn’t even know that immigrants still came to the United States from Ireland. Ash’s parents hadn’t needed to learn a new language or anything when they arrived years ago, and they had mostly lost their accents. In other words, they blended in. They weren’t quite like other people’s parents, though, and they didn’t always understand the way things worked in their new home. So when Gracie had insisted, “Soccer is important,” it took a while for their parents to come around. Even though Irish people loved soccer (which they called football) and games from Ireland were always playing on the big TV at The Gate.

  Travel teams had games in other states, and Ash wasn’t sure how her parents would drive Gracie to Vermont when they were supposed to be making lunch at their pub-now-restaurant. But that’s what American parents did. They packed a picnic and made a day of it. They thought kids needed to start soccer when they were little, so they could get soccer scholarships someday.

  Ash’s dad rolled his eyes whenever this came up. “Bloody ridiculous!” he’d exclaim. Bloody was sort of a bad word in Ireland, but not here. No one said it in Maine unless they were talking about an injury. And no one in Ireland believed that playing soccer was a means to any end except having fun.

  Ash’s parents constantly reminded their daughters that school was the key to success. They’d been lucky to start a new life and business in a new country, but Ash and Gracie couldn’t or shouldn’t count on the same good fortune, they said. Education would pave the way for their dreams. The girls needed to set their sights high, the McNulty parents said. It was their job to get good grades, and Ash always got the job done. Her parents believed a place in the GT class practically guaranteed Ash a bright future, and sometimes Ash heard them bragging about her on video calls with her grandparents in County Galway.

  But Gracie wasn’t really doing what she was supposed to. She had never even made it onto the honor roll. So why were their parents letting her join this travel team? It was going to distract her from everything important. Ash didn’t understand. Were they giving up on Gracie? Her parents knew what was at stake, and so did she.

  The McNultys had gone to college, but it wasn’t the right kind of college. At least, not according to Jane, who had a book that listed all the American colleges in order from worst to best. Jane wanted to go to one of these schools someday, since that was the way to become an astronaut. “We need to start planning now,” Jane had said recently, showing Ash the book. “If you don’t go to one of these colleges, you can’t go into space. You can’t do much of anything. You might end up flipping burgers.”

  Ash had seen her parents flipping plenty of burgers. It didn’t seem that bad, though Ash knew she was supposed to set her sights higher. Yet there was Gracie, heading off in the wrong direction, and their parents were going along with it! It all seemed a little unfair.

  In any case, everyone talked over Ash during their rushed dinner. “I hope I don’t have to play goalie,” Gracie said. “I mean, defense wouldn’t be that bad. But I want to be one of the players who scores!”

  Ash’s mom cautioned, “Gracie, you need to play where the coach tells you to play,” and Gracie grimaced. Ash was much better than her sister at following directions.

  Ash’s dad broke in. “You are pretty fast,” he said. “Maybe you’ll end up on the front line. But I think it might be a while before you’re a starter … you have a lot to learn before then.”

  Ash was pretty fast, too, actually. In gym class, she ran the mile faster than any other girl in her grade. It was probably on her report card, but Ash knew her parents wouldn’t care. They’d just be looking at regular subjects like science and math. At least Ash would have a Quiz Bowl victory to her name by the time they saw her B minus.

  Once they were all finished, Ash’s mom ushered Gracie out to the car. The house was quiet when they left for the Dome, and Ash’s dad had to deal with a call about bread delivery, so Ash picked up her backpack and headed to her room. It had pale pink walls and a heap of toys in it, from back when she was little, but her mom had promised that this summer they would update the room for a junior high girl. Ash wanted to use chalkboard paint on one wall, but she was still waiting for a firm answer about that.

  As far as her dad knew, Ash was starting her homework. But when she heard the clattering of the pots being washed and the loud Irish rock her dad liked to listen to while cleaning up, she finally looked at the phone.

  The Quiz Bowl questions were all there, organized neatly by category as if for Trivial Pursuit. To be safe, Ash would need to learn them all, and there wasn’t much time. Luckily, memorizing was one thing she was good at. No metaphors or theorems, no abstract thinking, nothing too creative.

  Ash covered the answers, tested herself on the questions, and got to work.

  Chapter Five

  By the time Friday rolled around, Ash had a terrible headache. Her brain was overstuffed with random information that she reviewed ferociously, over and over again. It was as if her mind was overheating.

  How many arms does a starfish have? she prompted herself during Morning Meeting. Five.

  True or false? Dalmatians are born with spots.

  False. Dalmatians are born white—their spots appear later in life.

  If Ash had thought that having the answers was the answer to all her problems, well, now she knew better. Having the answers caused a whole different problem: a paralyzing fear. What if she forgot them? What if—after this amazing stroke of luck—she slipped?

  People could tell that her attention was someplace else. “You with us, Ash?” Ms. Cooper asked. Caden had somehow become her spokesperson, so he said, “She’s just nervous about tonight.” Ash was grateful to him, even if he did spill his water all over her backpack by mistake.

  She dawdled on her way to Mr. Lopez’s, lost in an endless conversation with herself.

  How many bases on a baseball field?

  Four. That was a trick question, because you had to include home plate.

  How many presidents on Mount Rushmore?

  Also four! At least that was easy to remember.

  In Mr. Lopez’s room, she wasn’t the only kid thinking about the Quiz Bowl. Jane had a glassy stare, as if she’d been up too late, and Olivia wasn’t even there. Sebastian looked around the table and said what they were all thinking. “Did she stay home to get ready? No fair!” You didn’t need to be one of the GT kids to be in the Quiz Bowl, but pretty much everyone expected them to do well. All of them wanted to win.

  “All right,” said Mr. Lopez, sighing. “I know it’s a big day.” He knew better than to start them on anything new today, so they were left to do more planning for their Island Projects. Jane had sketched out a design for Moon Island, though it looked more like a plan for building an actual moon, it was so complicated.

  “Can you tell me the size of Ganymede and Callisto?” Jane asked. Ash knew, now, that these were two of Jupiter’s moons. She looked up the numbers online, pretending to be absorbed in this busywork so Mr. Lopez wouldn’t ask her about that rewrite. The problem with metaphors, she had decided, was that you either got them or you didn’t. She was one of the ones who didn’t, and Mr. Lopez knew it. Would a rewrite really change that?

  Ash dodged Tilly until the end of the day, when she was back with Ms. Cooper for social studies. Ash couldn’t concentrate—she could hardly sit still. When her gaze wandered toward the window, she found that Tilly’s eyes were fixed firmly on her. Just watching. Or … looking through her. Ash shuddered. Did Tilly know how to blink?

  Ash rushed home after school, and if soccer night had been all about Gracie, tonight was all about Ash. Her mom was home early, and there was lasagna for dinner! After gulping it down, Ash put on her most comfortable fuzzy sweater and braided her hair. Then she reviewed the questions one more time, jumping from category to category.

  Six missions have landed on the moon.

  In Greek mythology, King Midas turned everything he touched into gold.

  Ambidextrous means able to use both hands equally well.

  Ash was ready. Not even a robot could beat her in the Quiz Bowl, she thought, no matter what Tilly said. She dared to smile at herself in the mirror. For weeks, she had been doubting that she was really smart at all, but she’d been smart enough to get this far. If she didn’t have a brain freeze, this was going to be her night. Maybe everything was going to be okay.

  “See you guys there!” she called out to the rest of her family. Gracie and her parents would walk over together, but Ash needed to be at school before them. Mrs. Shepard, the principal and master of ceremonies, liked to go over the rules in advance.

  When Ash arrived, the school parking lot was already filling up. The gym floor was lined with folding chairs, Ms. Cooper’s banner was bathed in light, and the tables for the cookie buffet stretched across the base of the stage. Mrs. Silver was behind one of them, wearing a headset and directing foot traffic as people arrived with trays of baked goods. She sorted the cookies, sold the tickets, and steered newcomers in the right direction. The Quiz Bowl was the highlight of her year.

  Mrs. Silver threw her arm in the air when she noticed Ash, as if she were introducing a celebrity on TV. “The returning champion, folks!” she proclaimed. Ash was a little bit embarrassed and a little bit proud. She waved to Mrs. Silver as she climbed to the stage.

  Up there, it felt like being behind the scenes before a big performance, even though the curtain was already up. A school custodian was straightening the cloth that covered a long table. Behind that, someone’s dad was pinning small microphones to kids’ shirts. “Oh, here you are, Ash,” he said as if he knew her. “Let’s get you all set up.”

  While the buzz in the gym grew louder, Mrs. Shepard gathered the contestants around her to explain what would happen next. The second graders would go first, then the third, all the way up to the fifth graders. Then, once each grade had a champion, the top kid in each grade would face off against each other. First graders were welcome to watch, but they didn’t compete. It was too much pressure on them, Mrs. Shepard explained, at such a young age.

  Ash noticed her family come in through the back of the gym and settle into chairs right next to Jane’s mom, Jill Chapman-Haynes, who—unlike Ash’s parents—preferred for kids to call her by her first name. Jill was small and very energetic—she used her hands a lot as she spoke to the other McNultys. She had taken Ash hiking, hosted her for Halloween, and found the best coding camp for the pair of girls last summer. Now Ash felt a pang of shame. Just like Ash’s parents, Jill had high hopes for tonight. But Jane didn’t have a chance, and both of them would be disappointed when it was all over.

  Mrs. Shepard was still talking. When the second graders began their round, she explained, the older contestants would wait in the wings. No one in the audience would be able to see them, and Mrs. Shepard reminded them that they needed to be quiet. “Treat each contestant as you want to be treated,” she warned. “We all want our answers to be heard.”

  Before the Quiz Bowl started, the contestants gathered in groups by grade. Ash recognized a lot of the younger kids, and the fifth graders, of course, were mostly people Ash knew well. Here were Sebastian, Lane, and Jane—it turned out Olivia’s family was away for the weekend. Here was Sammy Silver, because his mom always made him compete. Here was Ellie, who tried hard but didn’t get far last year, with a pair of boy-and-girl twins Ash didn’t know. And here was … Tilly? Ash couldn’t tell if what she was wearing was a T-shirt or a dress. She stood alone in a corner, her foot tapping nervously on the floor, and Mrs. Shepard beamed when she noticed her. “This is the way to get to know a new school,” she told everybody else. “Just jump right in and get involved!”

  Jane glanced at Ash. Kids wouldn’t see it that way, her eyes said.

  Ash nodded but looked away quickly. It was hard to pretend, right now, that she and Jane were on the same team. Did friends do what Ash was about to do? That was one question she definitely didn’t want to answer.

  The second graders sat down at the long table as Mrs. Shepard started sound checks. Then the lights dimmed, and the parents’ chatter dropped to a few whispers. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,” Mrs. Shepard said warmly. “It is my honor to welcome you to this year’s Quigley School Quiz Bowl!” Like every year, she emphasized that this event wasn’t about winning or losing but about bringing the community together to celebrate—and share—knowledge. She praised every student who had the courage to take on this challenge. She invited everyone to enjoy the cookies. She reminded them that they were supporting a good cause, as the money raised tonight would support many of Quigley’s field trips, including the fifth grade’s upcoming adventure at Funtown.

  As the second-grade competition began, Ash positioned herself in a dusty corner backstage. It looked like she was cheering on the younger kids with Jane and Lane, but she was really going over the answers one last time. What if they flew out of her head?

  In tennis, love means zero.

  Carson City is the capital of Nevada.

  Harry Potter’s school is Hogwarts.

  She paid more attention when it was time for the fourth graders to compete, because whoever won would probably be onstage with her in the final round.

  Mrs. Shepard’s voice was getting hoarse. “Who was the first Black American baseball player in the major leagues?” she began. The McNultys’ neighbor, Ben, knew that answer—Jackie Robinson—and about a thousand others. It took a long time for him to edge out a girl named Violet, but he got it with a math question: “F ind the value of seven cubed, or seven to the third power.” When he answered 343 without a moment’s hesitation, he jumped out of his seat. The fourth grade had a winner!

  At that point, Mrs. Shepard thanked the fourth graders and encouraged the audience to take a quick break. As they scattered, Ash settled into her place at the long table, right between Jane and Tilly. She tapped her microphone to make sure it was working and searched for her family in the crowd. Gracie gave her a thumbs-up, and Ash took a deep breath. “You can do this,” she told herself. “It’s almost over.”

  Actually, though, the hardest part was just starting. Now Ms. Cooper was asking the questions—that had to be why she had them ahead of time, Ash realized. Ms. Cooper beamed at Ash and asked her first question, from the arts and literature category. “According to legend, what was the name of King Arthur’s sword?”

  “Excalibur,” Ash replied quickly. She smiled back at Ms. Cooper, but it felt more like she was baring her teeth. What if Ms. Cooper found out what she’d done? She was always so nice that Ash felt extra awful about tricking her.

  The next category was science, and of course Jane nailed it. She knew that the sun was made mostly of hydrogen, and that ROM meant “read-only memory” to computers.

  Sebastian was the first fifth grader eliminated, to everyone’s surprise. In his rush to answer, he mixed up waxing and waning moons and left the stage to a smattering of polite applause. Soon Ellie followed, then the girl twin. Ash wasn’t supposed to clap, but she winked at Ellie as she exited the stage.

  When the questions shifted to music, Lane was up. “Please identify the musical family that includes the xylophone,” said Ms. Cooper. Lane drummed the table as he said “Percussion,” showing off his knowledge of instruments and making the audience laugh at the same time.

  Sammy Silver was not so lucky. “Please name a musical instrument with the name of a geometric figure,” Ms. Cooper asked him, and he couldn’t come up with the word triangle. Ash almost rolled her eyes. Even a first grader would know that! But it was painful to see the expression on his face as he trudged down the stage steps to face his mom.

  Tilly never faltered, to Ash’s surprise, though she had trouble with the microphone.

  “Could you repeat that answer?” Ms. Cooper asked her gently.

  Tilly spoke up extra loud. “There are eighty-eight keys on a piano.”

  When the category switched to popular culture, the boy twin tripped up on “Name the two sisters in the movie Frozen.” A little kid in the audience called out “Anna and Elsa” just as the boy said “Anna and Gemma.” In spite of the assistance, he was out.

  Now the fifth-grade competition was down to Ash, Jane, Lane, and Tilly. When Ash’s turn rolled around again, her question was “Who sang the song ‘Yellow Submarine’?”